


Where the heart is

by CatLovingArmour



Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Charles Being Concerned, Erik Has Feelings, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Meddling Kids, Mutual Pining, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-07-11 06:03:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7032094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatLovingArmour/pseuds/CatLovingArmour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles had never planned on taking in children. He wasn’t exactly the best with them, often a little awkward and never knowing quite what to say. He was fairly certain he had accidentally stepped on one once, though he supposed there was less chance of that happening now. But when Moira came knocking on his door with a story of a boy who needed his help, he couldn't exactly say no.</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>Or; how Charles slowly came to the conclusion that he had opened up a school without even realising it and Erik tries to help along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not so happy beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> So this all came about when I really wanted to see how Charles even started up the school in the first place, but I also wanted Erik to be involved in the process some how. Also, the continuity for all of this is completely out of the winow, both in fic and cannon, so I'll probably be messing with all the kids ages. 
> 
>  
> 
> Characters will be added to the tags when they appear in the story.
> 
> Theres some albeist works used in reference to Charles in here but nothing extream.

What happened to Charles that day in Cuba was an accident. For everyone’s disagreements of what else happened during the fight, how caused what to happen, and how it could have all been avoided, that seemed to be the only constant that everyone agreed upon in the end. 

Moira couldn’t help but feel responsible for his injury. If she hadn’t shot the gun Erik wouldn’t have curved the bullet and Charles wouldn’t have gotten hurt. She may not have aimed at Charles, but in the end he was the one who had taken the hit. She was a field agent, a damn good one, but desk and covert work where her speciality for a reason, she was good with her words. If she had actually used what she was good at she could have talked to him, called on the others, done something other than reach for the gun like a scared rookie. Now she refused to even keep the damn thing loaded. She refused to let another accident happen again because she panicked.

Alex cursed and hissed and spat at Erik after everything, consumed with rage and fury that the Professor was hurt. It was a wonder his powered didn’t kick in with his emotions, blasting and burning everything around him to the ground. Charles had taught him to control his powers, made him less afraid of just being around people in case he hurt them. He had helped him so much in the space of a few short months, and now he was paralysed and there was nothing Alex could do to help him. He blamed Erik with every fibre of his being because he needed someone, anyone, to blame. He knew in the back of his mind that Erik would have never done something to purposefully hurt Charles, but he simply didn’t care. It was far easier to be angry then it was to admit how much it had hurt him too.

Hank meticulously ran through every scenario, every possibility, desperate to find the exact moment where things had gone so wrong and how they could have avoided it. There were dozens of better ways they could have dealt with the situation, ways where no one would have gotten hurt and ways where everyone could have been killed and a war would have started. He wished for what felt like the hundredth time in his life that the real world was as simple and as easy to understand as the numbers that he surrounded himself in. Numbers where easy, they had sets of rules they had to follow. People on the other hand where almost completely unpredictable. He supposes in the grand scheme of things they had probably gotten lucky, but really, what luck was it that a stray bullet could cause so much damage. He had never believed in luck, but he did believe in freak accidents.

Sean didn’t know how to feel about the entire situation beyond numb. Like it wasn’t real, it didn’t really happen, except that it did and he can see the consequences of it all right in front of him. He didn’t feel angry like Alex or hopelessly confused like Hank, he didn’t even feel sad like Charles and Erik clearly did. He never knew how to deal with things like this, always avoided thinking about them as much as he would. It was the same when his parents got divorced when he was young, and when he was shipped off to boarding school shortly after. Just ignore it and maybe it would all go away. The walls he had built up over the years to keep out the bad feelings had somehow turned into a dam, and he was always worried that someday it would crack and all of those emotions would come along and just sweep him away. The only thing he could do was look at it for how it was; just an horrible, horrible mistake.

Erik had tried to blame Moira when it had first happened, almost choked the life out of her with her own dog tags. But he more he thought of it, and the more the reality of the situation settled in his mind, the more he realised that he had no one to blame but himself. He knew better control, Charles had tough him better control. He could raise and entire submarine out of the ocean, but safely curving a bullet away from harm was apparently too much for him. He could have had better aim, he could have just stopped the bullet, he could have just taken the gun away, he could have done anything else. But he hadn’t. And now Charles could no longer feel his legs. He swore to himself and to Charles that he hadn’t meant to do it, promised him that it was an accident, that he would never hurt the person who meant the most to him. Charles believed him, because of course he did, he would never blame Erik for something that was clearly his fault when he hadn’t meant to do it. But still, the oath seemed like an empty statement given what it now meant for Charles for the rest of his life.

As far as Charles was concerned, he hadn’t just lost the use of his legs that day; he had lost his little sister. Raven had been a constant welcomed presence in his life, his best friend, his only family, and she had fled with what remained of Shaw’s men. He couldn’t even bring himself to blame her either. Ever since she was a child she had always wanted that kind of freedom, to feel comfortable in her own skin and to be accepted for who she truly was. He had tried to give her that freedom, but the more he looked back on their lives together the more he saw so many mistakes that he had made. As children he had made the staff forget that they ever saw her in order for his parents to remain oblivious of another child in their home, so ultimately he was the only one she was able to even hold a lasting conversation with. On the rare occasion they had been able to play with other children he had encouraged her to change into a more human form so the others would not be scared of her and treat her differently, making her hide who she truly was. He had tried to hide from the world for her own protection, but all it did was slowly suffocate her. He had been a child trying to raise the both of them and he had made so many mistakes along the way that he wondered how on earth he had never noticed before now, when it was far too late to change anything and he couldn’t even apologise to her.

Without Raven, Charles felt completely alone, and as such he wanted nothing more than to be left alone to wallow in his own misery. But for once he was seemingly surrounded by other people, people he had brought together and people who had for some reason chosen to stay. No matter how much he wanted them to disappear at times, he simply couldn’t bring himself to turn them away. They needed this house just as much as he did. 

Hank had little family to speak of, particularly any of any importance to him. The young man had been raised by several estranged family members after his parents died in a car accident when he was three, passed from one to another every few years without much thought for the boy himself. He barely had any contact with his remaining family members these days outside of the odd Christmas card. He may have always had a house to return to, but having a home was a rather foreign concept to him. For the last few years he had more or less been living out of whatever labs he had been working from, something that Charles simply wasn’t going to let happen again if he had any say in the matter.

Alex had not spoken to his parents in years. Even when he had been released from prison just a few short months ago he showed no interest of informing them. From what littler personal information Charles and Erik had found before going to collect him, all they knew was he had dropped out of high school in his finally year, had been arrested for car theft and the resulting explosion of said car, and had a relatively small family. A mother, a father, and a younger brother, all of whom he actively refused to speak of with either of them. Charles may not be much of an empath, but from the surface thoughts Alex had of his family, there was more worry and concern then actual anger or resentment. He had decided not to pry in Alex’s personal business, but it was clear that he had no intentions of returning to his home any time soon. 

As far as Sean was concerned, there had been a reason they had taken in the youngest member of their group. Whilst Charles had mixed emotions about recruiting a 17 year old into a CIA sponsored group of mutant peacekeepers, it was clear that Sean virtually had a non-existent relationship with the rest of his family. He had been sent to boarding school state side at the age of 12 and had never returned to his home in Ireland even once in all these years. Financially he did not seem to have any problems, his wealthy family still seeming happy to supply him with a monthly fund, but Charles knew from experience that simply because those needs where met did not always mean that they did not cause their own completely different set of issues. Charles had wanted to ask him more about his family life but every time he had approached the subject to Sean the teenager had found a way to turn the conversation into a different direction, clearly not wanting to talk about it.

And then there was Erik, who had not had any home to speak of since he had been a child. For so long the only thing he had been concerned about was killing the man who had tormented him for years. But now Shaw was dead, his revenge on the man had been fulfilled. His only goal for most of his life was now complete, and he had to stand up once more and find a new purpose.

For the first few weeks after the accident the man had actively stayed by Charles’ side, refusing to let him out of his sights for much longer then a bathroom break. There was a time that Charles may have found that oddly charming but given the circumstances it did little besides irritate him. It didn’t help that Erik loomed over him constantly now. He had always been taller than Charles, but now that he was confined to the chair, Erik practically towered over him. Everybody did, but it was somehow a more painful reminder with Erik. Half the time it seemed like Erik was doing everything he possibly could to apologise for what happened without actually saying the words. Charles appreciated what he was trying to do, he really did, but there was only so much pandering and attention he could take when it came from a place of pity.

Maybe it had been his constant, overbearing presence, maybe it was the infuriation of his newfound situation, or maybe it was just the seed of resentment that had been burrowed inside of Charles the moment the bullet had imbedded itself into his spine, but whatever the reason the outcome was the same. A huge argument erupted between the two, long, loud, and ugly. Looking back, Charles wasn’t even completely sure what had been said by either of them. There had been yelling to the point where their voices were hoarse, tears that they would both deny shedding, and several smashed items that Charles had flung and Erik had crushed. Either way, the argument had come to ahead when Charles had screamed at him to get out of the house, and Erik had obliged. It was only after he had calmed down that Charles had fully realised what he had done. The rest of that night was a blur of alcohol and crying whilst Hank had tried to comfort him, keeping the other boys out of the room per Charles’ request.

Erik didn’t return after that night, or the night after that, or even the night after that. After a week Alex and Sean had tried to find him, Alex swearing up a storm about how the man had the nerve to just up and leave Charles when he needed him the most, and Sean silently driving them both miles around and methodically biting his nails down to the flesh. They had done the same for Raven when they had first gotten back, but just like the first time they found nothing. They couldn’t even think of any where he would disappear too, weather he had gone off completely alone or had somehow joined up with the other mutants from Cuba. Erik had even taken his helmet with him, so the chances of Charles actually being able to find him when he got his head on right where slim to none.

The boys tried to return some level of normality to their lives. All three of them had worked together in order to haul all of Charles personal items down from his bedroom to put them into the room to the side of his office on the ground floor. Charles had to swallow the pride that he had only just starting to realise he carried, admitting that it definitely was a better living arrangement. It was certainly less humiliating then him having to ask Hank to carry him upstairs. Not that Hank had ever minded, but Charles definitely did, not to mention the simple reminder that Erik was no longer there to carry him instead.

Hank tried to make himself useful, tinkered with and installing several stair lifts and ramps across the mansion to try and allow Charles some better access, as well as working on a motorised wheelchair that would give him some improved mobility. He would have to bring up the topic of bathroom arrangements at some point to Charles, but he did not was to bruise the man’s ego any more than it already was, and so kept those construction plans to himself for the time being. Alex picked up a few part time jobs in the local area, including a bakery and a mechanics, rolling up two of his hobbies into paid work. He also didn’t want to be a drain on Charles despite the fact that the man had told him on multiple occasions that Alex was not a burden to him. Besides, it kept his body and mind busy, as well as providing a welcomed distraction from the all too quiet and empty mansion. Sean continued with his education mostly on his own, attending night school and holding up in the library for hours on end. He still had a year of High School left and had to catch up with his missed classes and exams, not that he minded in the slightest. It wasn’t many people who got to say they couldn’t go to school their last semester because they were training up their superpowers. And he loved the huge library Charles had collected, even if some of the material was a little beyond him. Most of the time they all simply wanted to keep themselves distracted from what had happened, none of them really being emotionally equipped to deal with this kind of mature situation. Charles tried to put on a good face for them, but he couldn’t hide from them just how much he was hurting over the whole ordeal. He was so much more distant then he ever had been, hardly talking to anyone unless he needed too, staying cooped up in his office most of the time as he nursed whatever bottle he had chosen that day. Sometimes he didn’t even drink it, just stared down at the alcohol and wondered what would happen if he simply drank himself into a stupor. Maybe he would one day, if the others weren’t around to see.

This more or less contained for three long months, until one day when an old friend visited the mansion.

“Agent McTaggart,” Hank greeted the woman at the door. They didn’t exactly get visitors to the mansion, nor did Hank get out of the mansion very often to see other people, and Hank couldn’t help but feel genuinely happy to see a friendly face once again.

“Hello, Hank,” she smiled at him, stepping into the house and immediately pulling him into a hug. Hank laughed and held her close. “What happened to the fur?”

“It was temporary. Kind of,” he explained, “mostly comes out when I’m under a lot of stress.”

“That must be tough for someone working on a PhD,” she said, pulling away from the embrace to show a wide smile and soft eyes. She really had missed them. Hank smiled back at the fact that she had remembered something he had just said in passing it to her what seemed like such a long time ago.  
In truth, he had put his doctorate on hold for the time being, at least until they could reach some level of familiarity once more. But that still didn’t really explain to him why now she had decided to return.

“It’s nice to see you again, but why…”

“Moira.”

The two turned towards the voice to find Charles wheeling himself down the corridor to greet the visitor. The man had changed a lot in the last few months, even discounting his obvious physical handicap. He had seemed to stop caring about his physical appearance all together, still in the pyjamas he had been wearing for the past three days, no longer bothering to style and groom his hair with his usual care, and sporting a somewhat scraggly beard that couldn’t grow out into a full one even after weeks of not shaving. But the biggest give away was his eyes, no longer as bright with excitement and hope as they had once been, with large bags that showed tiredness that was more than just a lack of sleep.

“Hello, Charles,” Moira said, her smile shifting ever so slightly into one of melancholy. 

“It’s good to see you,” Charles said, smiling at her and laughing weekly, because whilst it was a joy to see his friend again, all of the memories that come with her just came flooding back. 

“You too,” she walked towards him and bent slightly in order to hug him at his new angle, a gesture he returned immediately, his fingers digging into the thick material of her blazer, as though he was scared that if he released his hold she too would disappear from his life entirely. 

She he finally did bring himself to loosened his hold, she slipped out of the hug and looked at him with a more professional gaze that reminded him all the more that she was without a doubt a CIA agent. “Charles, I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

He nodded, somewhat thankful for the distraction from his own emotions but also somewhat worried about what on earth she wanted to talk about. Her base thoughts held an air of urgency and focus, and he had to hold back from falling into her head. It was a terrible habit that he had been avoiding falling back into like he had done as a teenager. “Alright. Let’s go to my office.”

AS they headed into the room Charles heard Hanks slightly awkward and heavy footfalls and he took the stairs two at a time, presumably running off to find Alex or Sean and tell them about the new development. Charles couldn’t help but smile a little fondly at how close they had gotten, even if some of it was due to what had happened to him. 

The second Moira closed the door behind them she jumped right into the issue. “There’s a man, Major Stryker. His son, Jason, is a mutant.”

Charles sighed heavily, suddenly feeling ten years older before even having the conversation, wondering if she would object to him having a brandy at eleven in the morning. Probably. The two had spoken after Cuba about what to do next. Whether they should rebuild another X-Men group, or maybe open a training facility like Charles had suggested multiple times before. But in the end Charles simply didn’t feel like he had the energy to do anything involving other mutants for the foreseeable future. “Moira…”

“Please, just hear me out,” she all but begged, well as much as someone with a tone of authority would beg. Charles rubbed at his forehead, already expecting a headache that would most likely come from where this conversation would go. Still, there was no stopping Moira when she had a mission, and so he gestured for her to continue. “He’s 10. I don’t know what it is, I just know he can’t control it.”

Charles froze a little upon hearing his age, the distant memory of two young children meeting in the kitchen for in the dead of night for the very first time. He had never planned on taking in children that young. Never really planned on taking children at all, they were putting together a task force at the time not a school. He wasn’t really the best with them, often a little awkward and never knowing quite what to say. He was fairly certain he had accidentally stepped on one once, though he supposed there was less chance of that happening now.

“And how exactly did you find all of this out?” he asked, both wanting to know as well as stretch the conversation on long enough for him to think of a proper excuse out the situation.

She smiled a little at his question. “I’m very good at my job. Plus he came looking through my papers on you and all but interrogated me and threatened to have me fired. Look, it’s not important how I know, you probably wouldn’t approve of my snooping methods anyway. What’s important is what I know,” her voice had slowly turned more and more serious as she went on, before taking a deep breath to still herself. “He’s desperate, Charles. He’s scheduled Jason to get a lobotomy by the end of the month.”

Charles suddenly felt sick to his stomach. It had taken the general population as well as the entire medical community far too long to finally reach the conclusion that the practice caused far more harm than any possible semblance of good. The thought of such a young boy having to undergo it simply because he could not control whatever ability he had unnerved him to his deepest level. He would have to do something. Maybe not take him in but he simply couldn’t allow something like this to happen, not if he could stop it.

“What exactly is your plan?” he asked, feeling himself already sinking into the trap of agreeing with her before even hearing it.

“If I tell him about you helping other mutants he might see some sense. If we tell his wife first that might give us some leeway too. And if none of that works you can always mind wipe him. Charles, I know it’s a lot to ask, but please. He’s just a kid.” Her voice was firm but desperate at the same time, determined to find an answer but not sure as to what it would be in the end.

And so Charles really only had two choices. Help the child or leave him. He had never been the type to leave someone; he was the one who got left. 

“Alright. When is best for you?”

Relief spilled from her in waves, a large smile blooming on her face. “Now.”

Charles looked at her in surprise, before glancing down at his less the presentable state. “Right now?”

“I’ll give you a few hours to make yourself pretty, but I don’t want you getting cold feet,” she explained, wincing a little at the ill-timed expression. Charles couldn’t help but smile a little at it though. Everyone had been walking on egg shells around the situation of his legs ever since it happened. It was a little bit of a relief for someone to forget or even make a small joke about it.

“Alright, I’ll be a while,” he told her, remembering the fact that it took him longer to get ready for pretty much anything nowhere days.

“Should I get Erik?”

It was a sharp stab of pain that hallowed out his entire chest and made it difficult to breath for a good few seconds. 

“Erik’s no longer here.”

“Oh. Oh, Charles, I’m so sorry.”

Charles didn’t respond, simply nodded before wheeling himself into his bedroom.

-

Of all the things Jennifer Stryker had expected to happen that day, two strangers showing up on her doorstep that evening had been fairly low on her list. 

“Mrs. Stryker, my name is Professor Charles Xavier, and this is Agent Moira McTaggart,” a crippled man with a British accent introduced them, the brown haired woman presenting her badge as he did so. “We’d like to talk to you about your son, Jason,” 

A sudden, sickening feeling of deep dread flooded through her entire body, making her ridged and tight. “I’m sorry, you have the wrong house,” she said automatically, having gone over this scenario multiple times in her head and prepared several excuses and such just in case. This could not be happening, they couldn’t possibly know, and even if they did they couldn’t prove a damn thing. 

“Please, it’s important,” Agent McTaggart stepped forward, crowding the door way, almost practically in the house itself. “I know you must be scared, but –”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Unless you have a warrant, you need to leave,” Jennifer told them, hoping that her voice didn’t sound as panicked as she truly felt. 

The woman simply continued “Your husband came to talk to me about the Professor a few days ago. He can help Jason.” 

Jennifer paused for a moment. Was that true? She knew William was trying to find something to help Jason, so it could be. But what if they were tricking her? What if they wouldn’t help Jason at all; just take him away and do lord knows what to him because of what he could do. 

“May we come in please?” asked Professor Xavier, resting his elbow on the arm of his chair, cupping the side of his face with his hand.

“Yes, of course,” she agreed before even realising what she had said. But then again, why shouldn’t she let them in? They seemed pleasant enough, they didn’t same to be holding any weapons, and one of them was a cripple. What possible threat could they be to her or to Jason? Some of her fear drained slightly, though not enough for her o even begin to feel comfortable with the situation. She paused for a second, staring at the man’s wheelchair and the step it took to get through the front door of her home. “Do you, erm, need help?”

“My associate can help me, thank you,” he said quickly, his politeness sounding stained and she knew instantly that it was a touchy subject for him. 

“I’ll make some coffee,” she excused herself, mostly to give them some room in order to figure out a way through the door way, but also to give her a few minutes to fully collect her thoughts and try to calm down a little. Why on earth had she let them in? This could end so, so badly, but if there was even the slightest chance that they could help Jason, then maybe it would be worth the risk. With a deep breath she put three mugs of coffee onto a tray with cream and sugar cubes at the ready before following the two into the sitting room

“Is it possible for us to speak to Jason as well?” the professor asked when passed the mug of coffee, not bothering with the cream or sugar she had also set out. Agent McTaggart dumped several sugar cubes into her drink as well as almost half of the cream. Jenifer didn’t even pick hers up. 

“He’s visiting his grandparents for the weekend,” she explained, and had never been more relived of the fact that he was not around. These people may not be a physical threat, but she would still rather keep her only child as far away from them until she could figure out exactly what they wanted with him.

Perhaps the man noticed how on edger she was, as he got straight to the point. “Mrs. Stryker, we know what your son can do.”

He felt as though her entire world was crumbling around her, leaving a dark void surrounding them. They knew. They knew what he could do, the thing she had feared for so long had come true. “Please. He’s a good boy, he’s just… sick right now,” she rambled desperately, try to find the right words, any words, to explain it all away and keep her son safe. Safe from them and even safe from her husband if she could. “I don’t want William to… but he says it’s the only way to make him better. Please, he’ll get better.”

The man looked at her with a mixture of understanding and frustration. “Jason is not sick. He’s simply a mutant,” he explained, his voice as calming as he could probably make it.

Jenifer blinked passed the tears that had suddenly sprung up, blurring her vision and falling freely down her face. “A mutant?”

He nodded slowly, smiling softly, as though talking to a scared child rather than a middle aged woman. “His genes have mutated to allow him extra abilities. It’s simply a matter of evolution and chance, much like your red hair.” His explanation sounded like a cross between reading from a text book and telling a fairy tale. Like something as unbelievable as what Jason could do was simply down to some indisputable fact of science. It was oddly calming. “Could you tell me more of what he can do?”

Her breathing evened out slightly, as she thought back to the first instance of it happening. “It started a year ago. He was just playing. He was always shy, he had imaginary friends growing up. And then one day he made me see them too.”

“So he can make illusions?” Professor Xavier asked, sounding almost excited about it, like hearing the boy had some natural affinity for the piano. 

“I think so. We told him not to and he didn’t for a long time. I think he still does it to himself but he’s not bothering anyone when he does that. But he’s a child, he gets excited. He showed William a picture before, and made him see the story he had made for it. William… got angry. Scared. Then it started getting worse,” she swallowed down the taste of bile at the back of her throat at the very thought of what Jason had made her see before. “He would do it when he got angry. Made us see… horrible things. But that’s only when he’s angry I don’t even know if he means to do it. He was always quiet, but he stopped taking all together now.”

The entire time she explained the situation Xavier remained silent, occasionally nodding along to encourage her, deeply invested and interested in what she was saying to him as though it would hold the secrets of life. He remained silent for a few seconds after she had finished, before finally saying “I would like to try and teach Jason how to control his gift.”

Jenifer stared at him in pure amazement. “You… you can do that?” she asked, almost not daring to hope that this wasn’t some form of an elaborate and sick joke.

“I would certainly like to try,” he said, with such honesty that she instantly felt like she could trust the man. 

“But how?”

“I’m also a mutant. But I can’t create illusions like your son can. I’m a telepath.”

“You can see inside my head?” She knew she should probably be scared by this. That this man could possibly be able to read her mind, know all of her thoughts, but she wasn’t. The only thing she felt was hope. Hope that there were others like Jason, that he wasn’t alone, wasn’t some sort of abnormality. 

“In a sense. That’s only if I go digging and I’ve always thought of that to be rather rude. I can hear your thoughts as one might hear a passing conversation in the streets, but over the years I have thought myself to block out most of the chatter.”

“Have you taught others?” Jason wouldn’t have to go through life feeling different from everyone else, he wouldn’t be made to feel as though he was something wrong. This man could help him. 

“A few. It’s still a relatively new ambition of mine.”

He could have a chance at being happy. “Please. Please, if you can help Jason, do it.”

“I can tell Stryker the details of everything and have the paperwork sent to you within the week,” Agent McTaggart told her with a satisfied smile, putting down her now empty mug and reaching out to take the untouched coffee from Xavier’s hands, downing it in a few quick gulps.

-

Somewhere down the line, the boys had established what could be described as Ice-Cream Meetings. It basically involved the three of them talking about some serious topics with ice cream to somewhat make it easier. After Cuba they had gone through three entire tubs, after Erik left they had down though two as well as half a cake that Alex had gotten from the bakery. They also often happened late at night and pyjamas seemed to be an unspoken requirement. Because of this, and the fact that both Hank and Sean had to wait for Alex to get back from work that night, they had all but forced him to change as soon as he was through the front door and herded him into the kitchen.

“So we’re getting a kid?” Alex asked in bewilderment after appeasing the pair of idiots sat at the table. He broke open a fresh tub of Rocky Road, as it was his turn to choose and he was not sitting through another litre of vanilla. Seriously, he had always thought that Hank was a giant dweeb but whose favourite ice cream flavour was vanilla?

“Apparently,” the eldest said, passing out the spoons and blows for all three of them.

Sean grabbed the ice cream as soon as it was in the centre of the table, helping himself to a large serving. “Are we even allowed to do that?” 

“You’re here aren’t you?”

“There’s seven years difference!”

“Could have fooled me,” Alex snorted, snatching the tub back from the red head. 

“Charles mostly just wanted to just teach us about our powers. So maybe age isn’t an issue,” Hank suggested, fondly remembering the days they had all spent on training their abilities. He missed running, feeling his feet bare pound against the ground, going faster then he had ever thought possible. Sean had to miss flying, if how he used to pester Erik to spot him every other day was any indication. He may have been wary of Erik at the time, but he was the best bet to be able to catch him by the metal of his wing suit if he fell and landing had never been his strong point to begin with. Even Alex had to miss actually being able to aim his energy blasts rather than just blowing up anything close to where he was standing. 

“You better be careful you don’t freak the poor kid out if you go all Beast Mode,” Alex told Hank, giving him a kicking him under the table.

“I think it’s your normal face you’ve got to worry about,” Sean corrected Alex, earning a punch to the arm for his comment and grinning at the blondes’ reaction.

Hank was too engrossed in thoughts about the new mutant to give into the usual goading. “What about school? Is there one nearby he can go to?”

Alex shrugged. “It’s summer right now, so we wouldn’t have to worry about that for a while. And there’s always catch up things like Sean does. How long would he even be staying anyway?”

“Maybe kids are better with their powers. Some studies show that ids are better at adapting to things then adult or teenagers are, so he might get the hand of his powers faster than us. ”

“Or maybe it’s the exact opposite, like how kids don’t understand things as well as adults.”

“I guess we’re going to find out soon,” Seam mused around a yawn. It looked like they wouldn’t even get halfway through the tub tonight. He found it odd that he’d reached appoint in his life where having less ice cream was actually a good sign.


	2. New Arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took a while, it was giving me some issues and I don't have a whole lot of time to write in general. Expect the updates to have quit ea bit of wait between them just because of how my schedule is right now. Next chapter will be a bit more exiting, I promise!

\--

The week until Jason’s arrival seemed like a blur of rearranging, redecorating, and re-evaluating. To begin with Alex, Sean and Hank had tried to be nonchalant when they started asking questions to do with their soon to be new arrival. But subtlety had never been their strong points, and more than one meals they all shared together eventually just turned into an onslaught of questions that even Charles didn’t have the answers to. Whilst it was clear that they were all curious about him, there was also an obvious layer of concern they all shared too.

Hank was worried about the boys’ wellbeing. He had asked Charles what felt like a hundred and one questions about what it was like growing up with psychic abilities; both on how it could effect Jason as well as how the others should go about dealing with them in a health way. Even though telepathy and psychic illusions seemed as different to Charles as Ravens’ ability to change her body and Alex’s’ ability to produce energy from his body, he was more than happy to answer where he could. It did worry him on a personal level when they talked of Jason’s mental state, worrying if there was some deep rooted issue he himself carried around that he was unaware of. Of course, he was aware of some of his issues, he wasn’t completely blind, but he also knew it was often the ones that went unnoticed that could become dangerous. Typical, he was able to read everyone’s mind but his own. Charles could tell that a large part of Hank was simply being curious for curiosities sake, ever the scientist at heart. But it was mostly to try and better understand the boy, something that Charles couldn’t help but be thankful for. Hank seemed to be making mental plans of the possibilities that none of them had even thought of yet, while Charles was still trying to work out how exactly he was going to be able to teach a child so young to control powers he barely understood.

Sean had wanted to know about his powers too, simply thrilled at the prospect of meeting even more mutants, particularly ones that weren’t trying to kill them. He asked about how much the boy could do, for how long and how deep he could hold the illusions, all of them Charles couldn’t answer. This didn’t seem to bother Sean, as he would simple move onto the next question regardless of if he got any answers or not. He had a habit of having his head in the clouds, and there was no doubt that his imagination was probably providing him with something. Charles reminded him that Jason was a person and so shouldn’t be seen just for his powers, which Sean laughed at and said that he had just enjoyed showing of with the others when they had first met. There was some sadness to his voice at the thought of everyone being together once, but the smile on his face was enough for Charles not to pry into that memory.

Alex simply wanted to know how they should set up Jason’s room, offering to go out and buy the furniture they would need for him. When they had fist moved into the mansion Charles had ordered ahead the needed numbers of beds and wardrobes and what have you to accommodate six of them, as the old furniture had been moved into storage long ago. Ravens’ and Eriks’ rooms still remained untouched, everyone sharing a silent agreement to leave them be. Charles had assured him it wasn’t necessary, but by the next morning Alex was pulling out the boxes of furniture parts from the back of a truck, yelling at Hank and Sean to give him a hand. Charles had thanked him and promised to return the money, though Alex looked somewhat embarrassed by the suggestion. 

However, the fact remained that until they were able to speak to the boy in person, the most they knew about the boy was his ability and that he was ten years old. If any of their past experiences of being that age where any indication, it was clear that some changes would have to be made around the house. Hank had been combing through his entire lab, making sure there wasn’t anything too dangerous or important, and anything that was, was put far, far out of reach. Sometimes he felt concerned about Alex stumbling upon it and messing with his things, a child would probably be even worse. Before now Charles had never much seen the point to locking away any of the alcohol he had. They were all legally able to drink (at least as far as England’s rules) and he would far rather the boys be drinking in the house rather than out somewhere that wasn’t safe. He remembered being their ages and going out drinking till lord knows when with Raven, the pair of them stumbling home and having to shoulder the others weight just to stay on their feet. Looking back it was nothing short of pure luck that nothing have ever happened to them. He tried not to let those happy memories turn bitter as he locked up the liquor cabinets and put the keys into his desk draw. Whilst Sean and Alex didn’t have much in the ways of dangerous things for a child to get their hands on, they certainly had things they would rather keep private and so made sure to keep them out or reach of possible wandering hands. 

The main factor was a room, as Alex had correctly predicted and prepared for. Rather than trying to clear out yet another room that all seemed to hold one form of dusty clutter or another, they decided it was better to simply use Hanks old room. Given that it was just across the hallway from Alex and Sean, whose rooms where next to one another, it seemed like a good place to put the boy. Hank had moved his furniture and personal items into one of the rooms downstairs practically the same day Charles had too. It was clear that he was concerned for the man and wanted to make sure that should he need help someone was close by, even though he denied it and claimed it was so he would be closer to his lab. Whilst Charles did appreciate the gesture, as well as the attempted politeness to not draw attention to his reasoning, he had still told Hank it wasn’t necessary. As was felt like the norm nowadays though, it fell on deaf ears. Charles wondered when exactly he had lost his ability to argue in his own house, but also when he had stopped minding that the people in his house would do tight by him even when he didn’t want them too.

Constructing the furniture had taken far longer than any of them had anticipated, as all four of them stayed in that room for hours and worked through a bed, wardrobe, desk, drawers, and bedside table. This mostly involved Hank and Charles reading through the instructions whilst Alex and Sean fumbled their way through putting the pieces together correctly. Needless to say, it was an exhausting process involving plenty of false starts and ideal threats Alex would shoot at Hank when the older one would complain about him not listening to the directions he was given. By the end of it, Alex, Sean, and Hank all sat on the floor eating sandwiches, whilst Charles remained in his wheelchair sipping a cup of tea, all curtesy of Sean getting bored half way though and making snacks. He had always found housework exhausting when he had full mobility in his body, and now he felt mentally tired just trying to help. Not that he would stop doing so, he was still determined to help even in the small ways that he could. Still, the whole ordeal was making him consider hiring a cleaning service again.

“Don’t you think it’s a little… plain?” Sean asked to no one in particular, looking over the now finished room. They hadn’t been sure what colours to use when it came to the sheets or anything like that really, going for the simple white (though Charles insisted it was cream, the others couldn’t tell the difference) and brown, like the rest of the room was with its walls and carpet. It didn’t exactly look like a room any normal kid would have, too bland and washed out to have any kind of character.

“If he doesn’t like it he can always redecorate,” Charles told Sean. In truth he hadn’t really considered that factor, focusing more on whether the boy had everything he would need for his stay, however long that would turn out to be. Though now that it was pointed out he supposed the room did look rather plain.

“Does that mean we get to redecorate too?” Alex asked, looking interested in the idea.

“As long as it doesn’t involved knocking down the walls, I don’t see why not,” Charles said.

“What was your room like? When you were a kid, I mean,” Sean asked, wondering what on earth Charles had even been like as a child. He couldn’t help but picture a smaller version of the man he was now, serious and safe, but with a good sense of humour. Maybe he had been a little more adventurous, but even then it couldn’t have been by much. The man wore tweed, anyone who wore tweed could not have been all that much fun as a kid. 

Charles shrugged absentmindedly. “The same as any of the other rooms. My parents didn’t want to ruin any of its original qualities so I wasn’t allowed to do all that much with it.”  
He had always wanted to make it his own, as he was sure all children did, but wanted to avoid an argument with his parents even more. Though when Raven came into his life the fantasy of what their rooms could look like grew together. He remembered how the two of them would read through his books about fanatical lands and far of worlds, wanting to turn their rooms into something straight from the pages. They had to settle for playing pretend outside instead, but Charles had loved those games. 

“Well, you could now,” Sean reminded him, before another thought crossed his mind. “Wait, if you haven’t lived here in years, where else where you staying? How many places do you even own?”

Charles had to think for a moment. “Maybe seven?”

“That fact that you don’t know how many properties you own is a little concerning,” Hank told him with a teasing sile, as he picked up the now empty plates and tea cup, as the three of them got up from the floor. 

Charles tried to wave it off, looking a little embarrassed. “I own them as so far as my father owned them and I inherited them. The only other place I’ve visited is the main house in England and the summer house in California.”

“Oh you poor under privileged child,” Alex let out with a snort of laughter. 

Charles smiled before turning to Hank and asking, “Would you mind?”

Hank nodded and with a grin he lightly cuffed Alex over the head.

\--

Major William Stryker and his son arrived on the grounds at exactly 9am on Monday morning. Never let it be said that the man wasn’t brutally efficient. Charles was in the middle of getting himself from his bed, where he was able to get properly dressed, and into his wheelchair when the persistent and loud knocking echoed through the mansion. Sending a quick, telepathic request to Hank was enough to have the scientist out of his bedroom and answering the door in under 10 seconds. As Hank welcomed the two guests into the house, his muffled voice sounding a little edgy as he closed the front door behind them. Charles instantly felt the two new presences when they had rolled up in the car to the front door, but now that they were in his house their minds where ever more present to him. He imagined it was like being in a room with someone you couldn’t see but beyond that you knew without a shadow of a doubt that they were there. Minds could be a tricky thing with many layers to them, but the outer layer was often where the most prevalent, what a person’s all-consuming thoughts might be at that given moments. Most people could be reduced to static if needed, but some would all but scream at him. The two guests in his house had two very different thoughts running through their heads; one full of uncertainty whilst the other was driven with determination. He didn’t need to read their detailed thoughts to know exactly whom they belonged to. As he moved himself into the main hallway he found a man dressed in pristine military uniform and a young boy holding a duffle bag. Hank was looking somewhat nervously between the two, clearly not knowing how to handle the situation. Well, at least that made two of them. 

“Sorry about the delay,” Charles greeted as he moved closer towards the small group. He put on his best ‘polite company’ face and voice that his mother had practically drilled into him as a child. Admittedly, it had all come it plenty useful over the years, particularly when being around people he couldn’t stand. “Still getting the hang of this blasted thing.”

“Of course,” the man dismissed, though his clipped tone showed that he was still put off by being made to wait a whole two extra minutes for Charles to manoeuvre himself the only way that was now possible for him. Stryker glanced down at his blanket covered legs, a small look of familiarity coming over him. Being a solider, it probably a sight he had seen a fair few times. “How did it happen?”

Charles paused for a few seconds, willing away the memories that came with the question and trying to think of the best way to describe what had happened. “Friendly fire.”

Stryker let out a small, unamused laugh. “Always thought that name was ironic.”

“Yes, quite,” he agreed quickly, feeling Hank next to him all but bristle up. Hank had always been protective of the people around him, but it had doubled so after his experimentation and further mutation, making his temper a force to be reckoned with. In all honestly, he didn’t so much mind the man’s reaction. Often people would apologise as though they had some way of reversing what happened but didn’t, or give him a look of pure pity Charles was on the brink of making them all asleep right where they stood just to avoid the condescension. 

Either way, the last thing they needed was Hank becoming angry at the man and possibly scaring both him and his son away before they even had a chance to help. “Thank you, Hank, I’ll take it from here,” Charles told his friend, thankful that he never seemed to even think about mentally telling Hank what he was trying to say to him. Hank just seemed to have a knack at reading between the lines, particularly when it came to Charles, and now was no exception. He simply nodded in understanding before heading off to hide away and calm down in his lab for a while.

It was clear that Stryker was becoming more impatient by the second, as he continued speaking before Hunched even left. “As you know, Xavier, I’m Major William Stryker, this is my son Jason.”

The boy was small, though as Charles had no frame of references for children at all, he had no clue if that was simply due to his age or if he was just naturally little. His dark hair had been shaved down into a military style cut, and his simple clothes where practically free from a single wrinkle. He was so unnoticeable that he was noticeable. All except for the unusual feature of his eyes. Heterochromia; one blue and one green. Charles had to restrain himself from falling back to his dependable talk on gene mutations, thinking that Jason probably wouldn’t find it as interesting as he did. 

“Hello Jason,” he spoke to the boy directly, making on conscious effort to smile as kindly as he could. Charles had always been relatively small, even more so when he was a child. But as he was now at a new position of being permanently at eyelevel with the boy he couldn’t help but wonder if it was in any way more comforting to Jason. He vaguely remembered the looming presence of adults as a child and how intimidating they could be. Stretching out his hand, he said, “My name is Charles Xavier, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Jason kept a carefully neutral face, but it was clear in his eyes that he did not want to be anywhere near the mansion or the Professor. Still, he reached out and shook Charles’ hand.

“This man is talking to you, Jason,” Major Stryker said, in a tone that showed he had had this conversation with his son many a time and was becoming increasingly annoyed by that fact.

“It’s quite alright. He can talk to me when he’s ready,” Charles quickly said for him, not wanting the boy to be lectured for not being comfortable enough to talk yet. If he remembered correctly, his mother had mentioned that Jason had stopped speaking recently. Charles may not be a psychologist, but even he could tell that there was probably more to it than a child just being stubborn. 

“I’m going to get right to the chase with you,” Stryker said, his voice carrying the years of military experience and not being afraid to show it. “I’ve filled out the paperwork, done what you asked, and brought my son here. I want you to fix him.”

Charles was even more relived that he had sent Hank away at this point, as even he was having trouble keeping his temper in check around the man. Hell, he was having trouble keeping his own anger to himself as the urge to manually make the man leave suddenly skyrocketed at his comment. 

“I can promise you this; I will do everything in my power to help your son and to keep him safe,” Charles said, swearing himself to every word. He had always been sentimental, becoming attacked to a child he had literally just met and wanting to shield him from anything that would do him harm. Even if that something was the boys own father. 

Major Stryker nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Be good, Jason.”

Before Charles could even make with polite farewells, the man had turned on his heal and all but marched out of the door, closing it sharply behind him. Leaving Charles and Jason alone.

Charles had never thought of himself as being particularly good with children, never quite sure of the right thing to say or do around them. He was fairly certain he had accidentally stepped on one once, the he supposed that would be harder to do now. But as he sat there in the entrance hall with a young boy by his side, he knew he couldn’t afford to worry about his own inadequacy for the job. Jason needed someone right now, and that someone was going to have to be Charles.

“Right then. I hope you’ll be comfortable here,” he said, remembering how easier this part had been with a group of more or less adults. 

Jason didn’t reply, just nodded. It wasn’t a nod to say yes or no, nor was it one that showed any enthusiasm. It was more of an automatic response, simply nodding his head in agreement regardless of what his opinion may have been. That’s wasn’t going to go anywhere anytime soon unless Charles just came right out with it. There wasn’t much point in beating around the bush either way. He sent a quiet thought to Jason, as though talking to someone from a few feet away rather than right next to them, as he didn’t want to scare him too badly. 

‘It’s alright. Take your time, Jason.’

Jason’s multi-coloured eyes suddenly blinked into focus, staring widely at the telepath as he took a full step backwards. So much for not scaring the poor lad. Charles smiled, trying to reassure and calm him a little as he suddenly thought of a solution to at least one of their problems.

‘It’s alright, it’s just me. If you don’t like talking, we can communicate like this,’ he suggested, as though this was a very common way of getting around the lack of speech. 

‘You’re in my head.’

Over the years Charles had found that an individual’s thoughts often echoed a person’s voice. In Jason’s case, his thoughts where quiet and carful, not quite letting on to everything he wanted to say. A smart boy, calculating. 

‘Not exactly. I can read people’s minds and project thoughts into their heads, that’s the voice you’re hearing. This is my mutation.’

‘You’re like me,’ he replied, his thought a mix of emotions and ideas. Charles was the same, he was relived, it was a mutation, like in his neighbour’s comics, the wonder and awe of not being the only one. Charles had to pull himself away from Jason’s mind, the barrage of sudden thoughts where being thrown at him and he would be unable to stop himself from stepping through and he wasn’t about to invade the child’s privacy like that. 

‘Yes. You’re not alone, Jason.’ Charles couldn’t help the grin that broke over his face.  
It was the same feeling he had when gathering everyone the first time, traveling all over America to find people just like them. A feeling of bringing people together and uniting them. He loved it. Jason looked as though he had just been handed a slab of solid gold, his mouth hanging open a little as he simply stared at Charles in awe. It was obvious that he wanted to ask so many questions but couldn’t even think of the first one to start with. It was exactly the same look the others had gotten when they were first told too. Charles couldn’t help the nagging pain in his chest that Erik should with him, that they should be doing it together. He wondered if Erik was any better at dealing with children then he was.

“Why don’t I show you to your room and you can get settled in?” Charles suddenly asked, wanting to quickly distract himself from that particularly empty feeling.

The trip up the stair case takes far longer than Charles would have liked. He was thankful for the stair lift as well as the collapsible wheel chair, but the fuss and hassle of the damn things was still something he had to get used to. He wondered if there would be anyway to somehow install elevators in the mansion. At least those would feel a little more dignified. Still, they eventually made it to the next floor and into Jason’s new room. 

“So, here’s where you’ll be staying,” Charles began to explain once Jason cautiously stepped through the threshold. He slowly looked around the room, trying to take in every detail of the simple set up. Charles couldn’t help the small twinge of worry that it was in fact too plain for him. ”You’re more than welcome to redecorate it if you’d like. Though if you need a hand with it do let us know.”

‘This is fine,’ Jason reassured him, walking over to put his duffle bag in the bed. 

Charles let out a small sigh of relief. ‘We want you to feel at home here.’

Jason turned towards him, his expression once again going blank, much like it had been when he had first walked through the front door. ‘When are you going to fix me?’

‘You don’t need fixing,’ Charles told him, as firmly as he could without it seeming like he was lecturing the boy. ‘There’s nothing wrong with you. But I can help you learn to use your abilities. But why don’t we save that for tomorrow? I’m sure today must be quite tiring for you. Just relax and get to know the house. Or stay in your room if you prefer. It’s up to you. You know where my office is, yes?’

Jason just looked at him for a few silent seconds, his face deliberately not showing any emotion. He nodded.

“Alright. Be sure to let me or the other boys know if you need anything,” Charles told him, as he wheeled himself out of the room. It wasn’t until he had made it back into his office that he realised he had completely forgotten to tell Jason about Sean and Alex. Well, knowing those two, it wouldn’t be long before they made themselves known to him. 

\--

All his life, Hank had been the youngest. Whether it was by skipping several grades in school, jumping from one family member to another, or being employed by the American government whilst still in college, he had always just been the youngest one there. Except now he was the second oldest in a house of five, with the youngest being a ten year old. To say it was a change was a bit of an understatement. He had rarely fit in with the people around him, even less so with people his own age. Only recently had he felt like he was starting to find his feet with the small group of misfits they had formed. Lord knows how he would be with people far younger then him. Still, never let it be said that Hank McCoy was a quitter. At least that what he told himself as he stood outside of Jason’s door for five minutes working up the nerve to knock. Really, even for a socially awkward person, it was a little extreme.

When he finally did knock there was the distinct sound of light shuffling and padding before Jason opened the door.

“HI, Jason. It’s almost time for lunch. I thought I’d give you the tour if you’d like?” Hank asked the question he had rehearsed twenty times in his head. He really needed to get a better grip, the kid was literally half his height, he shouldn’t be that nervous around him.

Jason looked up at him for a moment before nodding and closing the door behind him.

Hank let out a sigh of relief. “Okay, great! Well, this wing is pretty empty right now, mostly store rooms. But across the hall are where Alex and Sean sleep.”

Jason peaked around his legs, looking at the now close doors.

“You’ll meet them soon. Alex is at work today, and Sean is studying right now.” Well, Sean was supposed to be studying, but Hank was never sure if the teenager actually did or just said he was and hid away in his room. Everything was a little hectic lately, so he hadn’t had a chance to ask him about his progress. For a guy who loved being around other people so much, Sean definitely liked his time alone. 

He led the boy down the stairs, stopping by the library, which Jason looked interested in until Hank started telling him about all of the scientific papers Charles had collected in there. After that he just seemed bored by it. He didn’t seem fond of the little of his lab he had let the boy see either, his nose scrunching up as he walked through. Hank supposed it did smell particularly strong of disinfectant, he had just scrubbed the place down before Jason had arrived. One place he seemed particularly fascinated by was outside, as he always turned to look out of any of the large windows they passed, staring out onto the vast green land that surrounded the mansion. Had it not been for the pouring rain, Hank would have suggested a trip outside, but getting a cold on his first day probably wouldn’t be the best thing for him. 

During the tour he couldn’t help but wonder about Jason’s lack of speaking. From what he had heard from the conversation he probably wasn’t supposed to have been listening to, Jason was physically capable of speaking, he just didn’t for whatever reason. He supposed it could be psychological, either as a defence mechanism or he felt like he physically couldn’t speak. Maybe it was more of a stubborn thing, taking command over the one thing he could have control over in his life, even if it was to simply refuse it. He supposed it would only be a matter of time before they found out, but Hank couldn’t help but want to find some kind of a solution to whatever problem the boy was having, even though it was probably something far out of Hanks control. He made a mental note to look up some child psychology papers when he was able to. 

When the two finally made it to the kitchen, they found Charles sat at the head of the table, reading through the paper. Hank couldn’t help but be relieved that that. For the last few months the other man’s eating and sleeping habits had gone completely out of the window, so the fact that he was starting to gain some kind of a routine back on his own was extremely comforting. 

“Hello, boys,” Charles greeted them. “Mind me asking what we’re having for lunch?”

“I was just going to make some omelettes,” Hank admitted with a small shrug. He had never been one for cooking, usually only surviving off of take away and microwaveable meals. 

“That sounds lovely,” Charles assured him, smiling at Jason as the boy sat in the chair besides him. “How have you been settling in so far?”

Jason gave him a look that Hank recognised as the two of them having a psychic conversion. Good, at least the boy had some way of talk to one of them. That was a little less worrying then before.

As soon as the stove had been turned on, as if summoned by the very mention of food, Sean stumbled into the kitchen. It was painfully clearly that he had just rolled out of bed, his curly, ginger hair a complete mess and still dressed in his pyjamas.

“Pleasure to have you joining us, Mr. Cassidy,” Charles greeted him, more cheer in his voice then any actually reprimand. He was hardly in a state to be judging the boys odd sleeping habits given his behaviour lately.

Sean yawned and waved sleepily to the room. “Sorry, Teach. I kind of had a late night.”

Charles laughed a little, before turning to the boy next to him. “Jason, this is Sean. Sean, Jason.”

Sean blinked awake, looking a little like an owl as he stared down at the boy he previously hadn’t noticed. “Oh, hey! Sorry I wasn’t up when you got here. I’m usually better, promise.”

Jason gave a small nod in acknowledgment, looking a little startled at the teenager in front of him.

“Jason not comfortable speaking right now,” the Professor explained to Sean, hoping that it wouldn’t lead to too many prying questions about the subject that Jason may not be ready to even try and answer just yet.

Sean simply shrugged and smiled at the boy. “Okay, no problem,” he said, before taking over Hanks station at the hob as the man sat across from Charles at the table. 

The professor and Jason seemed to be have some kind of telepathic conversation, on what was anybody’s guess. But the sight made Hank smile. Charles looked so much more at peace then he had over the last few months, relaxed and comfortable. Honestly, it was a relief. 

“So, you heard any more from Moira?” Hank asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as he could. Judging from the look that Sean shot him, it wasn’t working.

Charles didn’t seem to pick up on it though. “We’ve talked over the phone a little. Why?”

“No reason. You two just get along well is all,” he said with a shrug. Okay, so maybe playing matchmaker wasn’t exactly in his skill set.

“Yes, she’s a good friend.”

“Yes, she is,” Hank said with such a tone that meant he was clearly trying to say something without actually letting onto what it is. Charles raised an eyebrow, wondering just how rude it could be to peel back the layer of Hanks mind that he was so close to saying aloud. 

“Hey, Jason.”

Everyone turned to look to Sean, who had moved to the fridge to grab the eggs. 

“Do you want milk?” he clenched his hand twice, “or juice?” he held his pinkie finger to his chin with a twist of his wrist.

Jason stared at the red head in awe for a few seconds before he clumsily tried his best to mimic the sign used for milk.

“Good,” Sean grinned at him, placing the fingers of his right hand against his lips before moving the down into the palm of his left hand. 

“I didn’t know you knew sign language,” Hank voiced as the milk was poured out and passed over to Jason. The boy grinned widely, grabbing the dirk that he had asked for.

Sean looked embarrassed, shuffling a little and refusing to look either man in the eyes. “I don’t. Not really, anyway. I picked up some words and stuff when I was a kid, but it’s kind of hard to learn a whole language by yourself. I just know some of the basics.”

“Why did you try to learn it in the first place?” Charles asked, genuinely curious.

He ran a hand through his already messy hair. “I just, I get it – the not wanting to talk thing. When my powers came in I was afraid of my voice for a while. The sign language helped until I found my voice again.”

They was a notable silence in the room before Jason whipped his head towards Charles, how stifled a small laugh before saying, “he wants to know how to say thank you.”

Sean put the fingers of his right hand to his lips before moving his hand forward and down. Jason repeated the sign, the smile on his face growing.

\--

The mansion was quiet at night. Not that it was much better during the day, but the darkness seemed to make the silence stretch on and on. Jason wasn’t used to the sheer amount of space that came with the mansion that only held four people. Well, five for now he supposed. He was used to the background chatter of his home at night. The constant low sound of the radio in the kitchen that his mother always forgot to turn off, the occasionally barking from the neighbours’ tiny dog, the teenagers acting like idiots as they walked home late. But here, so far out in what felt like the middle of nowhere, there was practically no sound whatsoever. Jason had never thought that silence could be so loud. 

It also didn’t help that he could slowly feel himself dying of boredom. He had already read through one of the three books he had actually been allowed to bring with his from home, and the library in the house looked more like it was filled with boring science books then fun adventure ones. For such a giant house there was actually very little to keep him occupied. Not that he was there for fun, he was there to get better. But surely a little bit of fun couldn’t hurt.

He heard the large clock from the hallway chime at the sound of midnight and sighed. He wasn’t falling asleep anytime soon. After a few minutes of debating, he eventually decided to go and get himself some milk from the kitchen. Professor Xavier and Mr. McCoy had told him he was allowed to go wherever he wanted in the house as long as it was safe, so he didn’t see the harm in it. 

As he quietly stepped his way towards the kitchen, overly conscious about even the slightest noise he was making in the echoing hallways, he froze at the sudden sound of rustling coming from inside the room. He slowly peaked around the door to see a blond man shuffling though a handful of letters. He was wearing old looking clothes and was speared in the odd patch of grease. Jason didn’t exactly know what robbers were supposed to look like, but he was pretty sure that they wouldn’t just steal mail from a fancy place like this. He wasn’t even taking the letters, just glaring down and muttering angrily under his breath and he shot them into the bin. 

“I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand fucking times, I don’t want…”

The blond man turned around and looked him dead in the eyes. Jason froze. 

“Oh, hey squirt. I’m Alex Summers. My room’s right across from yours. You are Jason, right?” the man asked in a casual tone, completely different to the angry, quiet voice he had moments ago.

Jason nodded. Alex was the other one he hadn’t met that day, so the chances of him being a thief where slowly but surely going down. 

“Listen, do me a favour, and don’t let tell the Professor I’ve been swearing in front of you, kay? I’m not that bad an influence, I promise. Or, I’m trying not to be, at least,” he said with a small laugh, and Jason was pretty sure he was going to like this man.

“You hungry? Was going to make myself a sandwich.”

He nodded again.

“Not much of a talker, huh?”

He shook his head.

“I can respect that. A man’s got to have his privacy, right?”

Jason smiled a little at that. It was pretty clear that he was nowhere near a man, but it was kind of a nice thing to hear.

“Maybe you can have some ice cream with us next time,” Alex said, smiling at some joke that Jason didn’t really get. He didn’t think it was a joke at him at least, so he didn’t really care. The sandwich was pretty good either way.

\--

It was the very next morning that Charles experienced exactly what Jason was able to do. Once breakfast was done he called the boy into his office and asked him to go ahead and demonstrate his ability.

‘Would you like to show me what you can do?’

And just like that, Charles was no longer in the mansion. Well, rationally, he knew he was, but from the illusion Jason produced, there was no way of telling. The two of them were in a field of lush green grass, sprinkled with daisies, buttercups, and clovers. The sky the clearest blue he had ever seen it to be without a single cloud in sight. The only feature he could see for miles was a giant tree close by with a simple tire swing hanging from one of its lower branches. He could feel the rustling of the breeze on his clothes, the warmth of the sunlight gently shining down on them. He couldn’t help but grin wildly. ‘Jason, this is amazing.’

Jason smiled. ‘I come here to be happy,’ his thoughts matched the boys’ lips, as though he was actually speaking once more. 

‘It’s a lovely place. I had a swing like that when I was small.’ Charles told him, remembering constantly trying to climb the tree his grandfather had once planted on the grounds. Raven could always get higher then he could and would help him up when he needed it.

‘It’s really cool,’ Jason said, as he ran towards the tree, exited to show Charles his toy.

Charles took a step forward to follow him when suddenly the world around then evaporated. He was walking. He could feel his legs. His legs that where immobile, unfeeling, dead weights. It wasn’t real. 

Suddenly they were back in the mansion, Jason looking up at Charles with pure bewilderment from the exact spot he had been before the illusion began. So the movement in the fantasy wasn’t real either. He had been standing up. He had taken a step. He felt his legs again.

‘Did I do it wrong?’ Jason asked him, his brow furrowing as Charles stared down at his lap with wide eyes, one hand clenched around his thigh. 

‘No, Jason. Of course not. It was just… different.’

‘That’s was you though, not me.’

Charles swallowed back some of the nausea that was swelling in the back of his mind. ‘Yes, I suppose it was. I’m still getting used to… this.’

‘Am I allowed to do it now? All the time?’ Jason asked, sounding exited by the very idea.

‘Well that depends. If you’re making these worlds simply for yourself I see no problem with it. It’s when it involves other people that I becomes an issue.’

The world flickered dark and back again, as though a light bulb was in need of changing. Charles wasn’t able to see much of the fleeting illusion, but he could recognise the shapes of old, ruined trees and large gravestones. 

‘But you said I didn’t need to be fixed!’ Jason practically yelled in their heads. Charles blinked, surprised by the sudden anger of the child. He needed to get better at this.

‘I know, and you don’t. But when you let your emotions control your powers they can become harmful and dangerous to the people around you. That’s what you have to practice, that’s what I’m here to help you with.’

Jason’s frowning expression lessoned into when Charles could best describe as sulking. That was at least a step in the right direction. He’d have to be careful not to completely ruin this. 

‘Alright. No, your mother told you quite like drawing, is that true?’

Jason pouted, but eventually nodded.

‘Perfect. I’d like for you to draw me a new scenery and then make an illusion of it. This should help you to better visualise it in your head before projecting it.’

Jason sighed but complied, going over to the desk to grab the available paper and pencils. Charles couldn’t help but feel like this would be far more exhausting then he had thought I would be.


End file.
